


tim/megan

by romanticalgirl



Series: pick-a-porn [19]
Category: Homicide: Life on the Street
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 2-5-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	tim/megan

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2-5-09

It’s late or maybe early. Tim doesn’t know, and the clock on the wall could advocate for either. All he knows is that he’s tired and he’s either coming off shift or supposed to be starting his next one, only he forgot to ever stop. The streets of Baltimore are red with blood, and he’s stopped it finally, hopefully, maybe, or maybe just put it on pause until the next person picks up a gun or a knife or a hammer or a ugly table lamp and starts it flowing again.

“You look tired.”

He turns his head and notices Megan standing beside him, huddled in her coat. He blinks blearily at her and nods. “You too.”

“I am.” She frowns at the elevator and sways, stumbling against Tim. He catches her easily, big hand curving around her arm and holding her against him. “How did I get so tired, Tim?”

“They don’t stop.”

She looks up at him. “The killers?”

“No.” Tim reaches out with his free hand and brushes her hair back away from her face. “The dead.”

She looks up at him, lost in her own head or in his eyes or somewhere else completely. “I don’t want to go home yet, Tim.” He nods and ushers her into the elevator when it comes, both of them leaning against the wall, too tired to stand upright until they have to, trudging out the main doors to the steps and the sidewalk. 

“I could give you a ride home.”

Megan looks up and down the line of cars, as if hers might separate itself from the row of beige sedans. “Where’s your car?”

“Right here.” He gestures to one that looks like all the rest, but it’s practically right in front of them. “C’mon.”

She climbs in, ignoring the empty coffee cups that litter the floor of the car as she shifts around in the seat to get comfortable, leaning back against the head rest and closing her eyes. Tim starts the car and backs out, heading down the street. “You know where I live?”

“Yeah.” He drives silently, not even the radio in the background. She watches him through half-closed eyes and he glances at her from time to time. The streets blend and blur together until they’re in front of her house. Her daughter is upstairs sleeping, or maybe waking up. Tim still isn’t sure if it’s day or night yet.

“Tim?”

His voice is soft and tired, maybe something else if he tries not to think too hard about it. “Yeah?”

“Can we go to your place?”

He doesn’t answer, just starts driving again, taking back roads and short cuts until the familiar world of his street and apartment building come into view. He parks, possibly illegally, and turns his head to look at her. His eyes weigh a hundred pounds and ache like they’re full of hot sand. She stares back at him, looking nearly perfect except for the dark circles under her eyes. Without thinking, Tim reaches out and curves his hand around the nape of her neck, tugging her closer and covering her mouth with his.

Everything comes back in a rush – drunk with tiredness, half-crazy, bullets and no suspects, victims and no motive, red balls and red names, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins – and he moves over her, reaching to guide her seat back as he clamors over the well between the seats and settles over her, her smaller body fitting against his despite the differences.

He doesn’t think about what they’re doing. He doesn’t think at all, he just feels her. Soft skin and expensive perfume, fragile clothes made out of things that require dry cleaning, unlike the wash and wear suits he gets from Sears. He opens her shirt and mouths one of her breasts through her bra, licking at the protruding nipple. Megan arches upward, her body seeking more as his hand covers the other breast, fingers deftly manipulating the hard nub and soft flesh.

“Tim.” She groans his name and he stops teasing her, sliding his hand down to work the rest of her clothes out of his way, to free his own aching cock. She’s slick and hot, ready and wanting as he pushes into her, one knee against the door. Her other leg is against his side, her heel on the dashboard as he pushes deep, the whole car rocking with them as he presses his feet against the floorboards for purchase as he thrusts inside her. She’s vocal, even though she doesn’t say anything other than his name the one time, the rest of it gasps and groans and hunger, poured out into the slightly damp, cold air rapidly replacing the heated air now that the car is off, the engine silent.

He comes as she does, slumping against her in the absence of her throaty sounds, the night suddenly loud around them. He kisses her shoulder as he shifts inside her, easing out carefully. “It’s late.”

She shakes her head and glances at the rays of sunlight threatening to make their way over the buildings and bring a new day. “It’s early.”

“We could go to bed.”

“I think…” She pauses for a long time, concentrating on the buttons of her blouse. “I think you should take me home, Tim.”

He nods and starts the car again, wondering if she’d care if he fell asleep in front of her house. Something tells him that she would.


End file.
